


it’s not that dramatic, but that’s how we like it

by juurensha



Series: Rise [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 20:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5553785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juurensha/pseuds/juurensha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bull may have been exaggerating how common exchanging dragon teeth is, and Dorian contemplates throwing the stupid thing at his big fat head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it’s not that dramatic, but that’s how we like it

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the idea on tumblr with http://ideordinal.tumblr.com/post/104619584241/so-you-know-how-in-a-romance-you-ask-bull-about. Adaar, Rasleanne, and Rian all appear in the previous DAI fic, Hindsight Would Be a Lovely Thing

This, Dorian decided as he attempted to wipe away the blood on his face only to get it on his robes, had to be one of the poorer choices in his life. 

Bull was a terrible influence.Before he had met him, he had very sensibly always stayed far, _far_ away from dragons, deciding that the world would be better off without someone as pretty as him dying a horrible fiery death. Of course, since joining the Inquisition, he’d learned much to his distress that not all dragons breathed fire. No, of course, not, some of them shot out weird lightening, and some of them breathed _ice_ in the middle of fucking freezing Emprise du Lion, and all of them were huge and could easily squash any of them, but did Bull care, nooooo, he and Adaar would just run up to them like a child in a candy store. 

But the only way to get a dragon tooth was to kill a dragon, and if he was going to get a dragon tooth it may as well be the most splendid dragon tooth he could find, so he had asked Rasleanne to help him track down the Abyssal High Dragon, and she had dubiously produced the bait Frederic had recommended, and then the damned beast had swooped in on them. 

Still, even if his robes were splattered with blood, viscera, and other fluids he’d rather not think about, and he was going to have to wash his hands as soon as they made their way back to Griffon Wing Keep, he had a dragon tooth, and all was well. 

Or at least he had thought so before he noticed how Adaar kept beaming at him. 

“Why are you still grinning?” he demanded, looking at Adaar who he swore if she grinned any wider would probably split her head in two, “That thing nearly bit your arm off!” 

“And it was _awesome,”_ Adaar breathed, clasping her hands together with stars in her eyes. 

He shook his head, “Qunari,” he grumbled, stuffing the tooth into a bag (Venehedis, it _reeked._ Bull better be satisfied), “You must be the only race that runs _towards_ dragons rather than _far far away_ , like any sensible person would.” 

“Vashoth,” Adaar corrected cheerfully, stoppering another bottle and tucking it into her bag, “Dad is going to be delighted; he just got a new cookie recipe he wanted to try, and now I can send him fresh dragon blood instead of him having to try to barter prices down.” 

“What—I don’t want to know,” he said, slinging the bag over his shoulder, making a mental note to not accept any food from Adaar or Sera for a while (not that it was ever a good idea to accept food from Sera) 

“Besides, wasn’t this dragon hunt your idea for once?” Adaar asked with a sly look that he really didn’t like, “Went begging to Razzy, right? Needed a dragon tooth, did you?” 

“Yes,” he replied with a glare, “What of it? You got to indulge your strangely self-destructive fantasies after all.” 

“Is it for Bull?” Adaar continued, her grin growing wider, “That is _so hot.”_

He’s glad that the Southern weather has for once come in handy, and he can blame the desert heat for any redness blooming on his cheeks, “It may or may not be a gift,” he admitted, before arching an eyebrow, “Frankly I’m surprised you haven’t wrenched one a long time ago to give to our lovely ambassador.” 

Adaar laughed, waving a hand in front of her, “Not really my thing, and not really hers either. Besides, it’s more of a qunari epic than a Tal-Vashoth or Vashoth one.” 

“So your parents didn’t slay a dragon and then exchange vows over its steaming carcass?” he asked, taking the proffered balm from Rasleanne with a grateful nod. 

“No way,” Adaar laughed then looked at him quizzically, “Wait—what did Bull tell you about all this anyway?” 

He scuffed at the sand a bit with his boot, “Just—it’s something two qunari who want to be more—serious—exchange.” 

“Well that’s not wrong,” Adaar muttered under her breath before beaming at him and then turning to Rasleanne, “We better get back to Skyhold soon, Razzy, I’m sure Dorian misses his giant lummox very much.” 

“I miss the baths there more,” he complains, handing Adaar the balm, “And not having to find sand _everywhere._ Not only is it in my clothes, it is in every single spine of my _books.”_

“The horror,” Rasleanne commented agreeably, stretching and placing her staff back on her back, “Well, for the sake of your books, we’ll start heading back. Although, you’re going to have to be the one who tells Bull that we hunted down the Abyssal High Dragon without him.” 

“Believe me, when he hands that tooth over, Bull’s mind is going to be _blown,”_ Adaar commented with a dirty grin. 

(He feels like there’s something he’s missing here, and he feels the familiar prickle of anxiety that he’s revealed too much, that he’s gone too far, that he’s gotten in too deep with someone who could care less— 

But Bull isn’t like that. 

For all that Bull had been Ben-Hassrath, and Maker knows how long Dorian had waited for a surprise attack from the man during the first few weeks he had joined the Inquisition, he trusts Bull. 

Although, he refuses to just tell him; he does have a reputation to maintain after all. Besides, a stinking dragon tooth should say everything he can’t quite bring himself to say out loud.) 

The trip back to Skyhold is pleasant, the terrain getting rockier and rockier until at last one day he wakes up without having to empty out his boots of sand once again. Still, that feeling of being left out of some kind of spectacular joke sticks in his mind with the sly grins Adaar keeps sending his way every time she catches sight of the bag that the dragon tooth is in. Even Rasleanne gives him a few knowing smiles, and Cassandra _giggles._

(It’s exactly as disturbing as it sounds) 

Still, even though he is relieved to see the gates of Skyhold (at long last, civilization, or at least, what little the South had of it), he can’t quite stop his hands from nervously fiddling with the bag. 

It’ll be fine, obviously. Bull might be a bit disappointed to not have been invited to come along, but he was sure to be distracted by an actual dragon tooth. And if that didn’t work, he’d buy drinks for all the Chargers and beat a hasty retreat to drown his sorrows in his own room. 

He wants to go clean off first (may as well look his best, and besides, if everything went wrong, at least his hair would be clean), but Adaar practically shoves him into the tavern, followed by a beaming Cassandra and even Rasleanne trails them in with a small smile (well, at least it should be a good sign that the Herald of Andraste herself deigns to join them, right? Besides, Rasleanne wouldn’t come along unless she thought something good would happen; the girl had no stomach for humiliation) 

Bull looked up as he walked in, an easy grin spreading across his face as he opens his arms wide and calls out, “Dorian! Glad to see the high dragon didn’t snap you up!” 

“Bull,” he greets him with a nod and a smile (Bull would happily go for more, but some habits of secrecy are hard to break), “Glad to see you still haven’t learned to take a bath.” 

Bull laughs happily, leaning back, “Must be important if you skipped yours, or are you here to profusely apologize for not bringing me along on your dragon hunt? Groveling would be appreciated, by the way,” Bull jokes. 

He winces (who told him—probably Krem, damn that sneaky man), but manages to keep cool and examine his nails, “My clothes are filthy as it is; you’ll have to make do with a dragon’s tooth instead.” 

The murmur of conversation continues around them, but Iron Bull’s jaw drops, “You _didn’t.”_

“I did,” Dorian says with a nod of his head as he dangles the tooth out from the package. 

He wasn’t sure it was possible, but Bull’s eyes grow even _wider,_ and even the Chargers turn around to look at them while their boss just gapes at him. 

The silence from the Chargers is obvious enough that practically half the tavern has turned around to stare at them, so he coughs (maybe this wasn’t the best idea—or maybe not in public anyway? He thought Bull would have been fine with it, but who knows, qunari can be strange, even if Bull isn’t exactly your average qunari—) and tucks the tooth back into the bag. 

“Well, if you’re unenthused, I can’t say I blame you, it stinks to high heaven and—” 

“You actually _did it?”_ Bull demands, voice surprisingly high and eyes still wide. 

“Oh, _yes,”_ Adaar straight up _cackles,_ “I _knew_ it.” 

“Knew _what?”_ he demands, looking between Adaar who was practically bent over with laughter and Bull who was still staring at him with an expression he wants to classify somewhere between adoration and awe (it’s not a bad look; he’ll have to keep that in mind next time he gets dragged dragon hunting) 

Adaar manages to stop cackling long enough to glance at Bull who is shifting in his seat and looks the closest he’s ever seen to embarrassed (he had no idea that that was even possible) and then back at him, “Wellllll….it’s not exactly—Bull, you want to just tell him?” 

(Kaffass, this wasn’t some terrible kind of qunari joke was it? Or was it some kind of terrible double entendre? That would be more like Bull) 

Bull coughs and rubs a hand over his mouth, “Well—um—you know Dorian, how—well, dragons haven’t exactly been common for awhile, right?” 

(He had actually wondered about that, but— 

Hold on, wait a minute.) 

“Are you saying that you made up the whole thing?” he asks with a careful arch of his eyebrow. 

(If he had gone _dragon-hunting_ on a joke, he really may attempt to set fire to Bull’s bed, no matter how comfortable it may be or how many they had already gone through) 

“More like exaggerated a bit?” Bull suggested with a sheepish smile, “It’s—kind of a big deal in qunari literature, but not actually a thing really done in real life?” 

He wonders if it would cause too much of scene if he threw the stupid tooth straight at Bull’s fat head. 

“But,” Bull hastily continued, probably noticing the murderous glint in Dorian’s eyes, “I can’t tell you how—impressed I am that you did it! It’s magnificent!” 

“If I grind it up, I can probably sell it to the apothecary, or I could give it to Dagna where it will inevitably be blown up,” he muses out loud, tossing the bag up and down, relishing the panicked look that appears in Bull’s eye (serves him right) 

“No! I mean—you’d be within your rights to do that Dorian, but—” 

“But you guys haven’t even gotten to the part of splitting it yet!” Adaar interrupted, “That’s the most romantic part! The big climax!” 

Cassandra nods seriously, “You can’t leave before the climax, Dorian.” 

“You too?” he asks incredulously, staring at the Seeker. 

(Why is he surprised? Cassandra’s reading material is—well, Varric may claim it’s not even close to smut, but at least by civilized Tevene standards, Cassandra ought to burst into fire when she reads it.) 

Cassandra sniffs, “Of course; Adaar lent me some Tal-Vashoth translations and reinterpretations. It was amazing—the pure love and devotion of Anaan and Taaras coming into full fruition through their battle with the dragon, and the decision to take the tooth and cleave it in half as a memento of their struggles together, so—” 

“So matter how far apart life takes them, they’re always together,” Bull finishes, looking him in the eye, “Kadan.” 

(He may or may not melt a bit inside, even if he doesn’t know what kadan means, but like hell he’s going to show it, unlike Cassandra who is nodding approvingly at Bull or Adaar who is slapping him on the back while grinning at him) 

Rasleanne shows exactly why she is Inquisitor by hiding her smile with her hand and managing to hurry everyone out with a deft display of cajoling, implicit threats, and the promise of a party to celebrate (at least some people have an idea of decorum), leaving just him and Bull in the tavern (well Cole may be somewhere, but whatever) 

“Kadan?” he asks, with an arch of his brow. 

“Kadan,” Bull repeated, standing up and walking over to him, “My heart.” 

He manages to cover up the flush spreading up his cheeks by throwing Bull the bag with the dragon tooth inside, “Well _I_ did all the heavy lifting, so you better figure out how to split the thing and somehow make it into a necklace to satisfy your literary needs, you giant savage.” 

Bull nods agreeably, catching the bag and looming over him, “I’m sure I’ll find a way to make it up to you, kadan. How about dawnstone?” 

He wrinkles his nose but allows Bull to wrap his massive arms around him, “Coordinating that would be difficult,” he complains. 

“I’m sure we can pull it off,” Bull says with a grin, pulling him into a long, messy kiss. 

They may or may not proceed to take advantage of the empty tavern and sturdy tables, much to the squeaking consternation of Rian who accidentally cracked the door open, and the cheers of the Chargers before he managed to extricate himself from Bull long enough to cast the door shut again. 

Either ways, Bull makes good on his promise, splitting the tooth in two in an impressive display of flexing muscles and finding some dawnstone to make it into a necklace. 

And if he starts calling Bull, Amatus even before the big lummox comes home one day with a smile and his long lost family amulet in his giant hands, well that’s his own business. 

(Also if he happens to encourage Sera to prank Cassandra, Adaar, and Bull with pies and bees and memorably one time, a pie made out of bees, more throughout the following few weeks for _letting him fight a dragon without telling him,_ that is also his own business. Rasleanne is the only one spared because she arranged the party, and even if only Vivienne has the good stuff, he will not say no to free booze, even if it’s terrible Ferelden beer. 

Maybe some things in the South are growing on him, just a bit.) 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Anaan means victory, and Taaras means light mail/doublet.


End file.
